"Life, Love, and the Pursuit of Writing Well"
If you haven’t heard, I’m participating in the Say it Face to Face web conversation. In essence, someone asks a question and we respond to those questions via video.
And if you haven’t guessed, I’m having a BALL playing!! I hope you’ll consider hoping over there and playing along, too!
Here is my video response to the call for tips on how to help your child make the kindergarten transition.
Do you have tips on how to make the kindergarten transition easier?
From time to time, I’ll be recording thoughts and events from my childhood. These memories are prompted from the Reflections from a Mother’s Heart – Your Life Story in Your Own Words. I plan on filling this book out one of these days to pass onto my children. I’m sure I’m not the only one who finds the lives of our parents fascinating. It’s weird to think of my parents as children and it’s really fun to hear stories about their past, how they met, etc. If my children read about my past, perhaps they will understand me just a little better.
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Describe your grandparent’s houses. Did you visit them often? Why or why not?
Describe my grandparents’ houses? Hhmm…they were very different, at least, they were to me.
I’ll start with my mom’s mom. I never knew my mom’s dad; he died when my mom was three years old. My grandmother never remarried, which I thought was really cool, and still do. She never found anyone who could replace my grandfather and I thought that was the epitome of true love. (In fact, she’s buried next to him now).
Grandma J. was a down to earth, countrywoman with simple tastes. She wasn’t interested in putting on airs and as long as her clothing was comfortable, she didn’t care what it looked like (to a certain point. Please don’t think that she was THAT simple).
Grandma J.’s breath always smelled like coffee. It was bittersweet with just a touch of cream. I don’t ever remember her smelling like anything else. In fact, it seemed like she was always holding a mug of coffee and taking noisy slurps. I wasn’t close to Grandma J., but I was comfortable with her. She never made me feel self-conscious and she was always herself, to hell with what anyone else thought. She was tough. She raised five kids on her own. She sewed their clothes (she was a seamstress for a number of years) and very thrifty. Mom grew up poor and though she knew it, it didn’t seem to bother her overly much.
My mom has one brother and four sisters, one sister is deceased. Mom is the fourth child. I think growing up in a large family prepared my mom for motherhood and indeed, that’s all she ever wanted out of life, to get married and have a family of her own. Other than missing not having a father around, mom really hasn’t talked much about her dad, probably due to the fact that she doesn’t remember a lot about him.
Growing up, we were over at Grandma J.’s a lot. Mom and her younger sister, and her two kids, my sister and brother all hung out a lot during the summer months. In fact, Mom and her sister planned something for us to do every single day (other than the weekends.) We went to the movies on certain days, went swimming on certain days, the park (on cooler days), shopping, worked on crafts, you name it and mom kept us busy. We didn’t have the video games like the kids have nowadays so it was harder to keep us kids entertained. We stayed home a lot but I don’t remember ever really being bored.
Back to Grandma J – her house was very simple. It had hard floors…and I’m not talking wood, but rather concrete blocks. At least, that’s what I remember, I’m sure they were linoleum or some such. Her house always smelled like musty linens and her TV was always turned up too loud. (It seemed to get louder as she got older).
Grandma J. lived by herself for a number of years until her sister was unable to handle living on her own and she moved in with Grandma. My great aunt was a VERY cool lady; she used to be a teacher; so she was very smart and sharp with witty comebacks (something she probably picked up through her years dealing with kids). I remember laughing a lot over at Grandma J’s. Grandma J was always saying something funny and the way her upper lip curled around her teeth when she smiled or laughed was comforting in an odd way.
Grandma J always had fabric and knickknacks lying around. Though she wasn’t into crafts like my mom and aunt, she did a fair amount of sewing and was the one who taught my mom how to sew.
Her house was a pea green and as the years went by it faded to a pale mint green. She had a big backyard that bordered the parking lot of the Baptist Bible School. I remember walking through the school’s campus and admiring all the “cool” college kids and wondering what it would be like to live in a dorm. Thinking back on it now, I think walking through that campus helped plant the seed of wanting to go to college someday.
Grandma J. hung her sheets out to dry on a clothesline. I remember purposefully walking into the sheets so I could get a good whiff of fresh air, hot sun, and laundry detergent.
There was always something to eat at Grandma J.’s. I remember muffins and hard candy the most. In fact, Grandma J. had a weakness for those butterscotch hard candies. I remember popping those yellow circles in my mouth and happily sucking away for hours.
Grandma J’s house had three bedrooms, one bath, a living area and a kitchen. That was it. Though small, it never felt cramped. Grandma J had an old rickety coffee table on stick-thin legs that wobbled whenever we played on it.
We had quite a few yard sales over there as well. Grandma J. lived on a busy street so there was always plenty of traffic driving by which made our yard sales pretty popular.
An old man lived next door to Grandma J and I remember thinking their relationship was odd. He was a black man and though they became friends, it was a reluctant friendship. I don’t think Grandma was prejudiced, but she did come from a different era and they thought differently about African Americans. The old man eventually died and Grandma J. took it hard. That’s how I knew they had ended up being friends. I think, from that point on, Grandma J. went downhill a bit. She broke her hip a few years later and she died from a blood clot in the hospital. It was the worse kind of death, one that took us all completely by surprise and I have never felt more sorry for my mom in my life. She was crushed as she was close to her. It scared me because that meant my mom was the next in line to go and even thinking about her dying now makes my heart clench with fear.
Grandma and Grandpa H. (GGH) are my dad’s folks and they are still alive and kicking. Though getting up there in age (both over 80’s and fast approaching 90’s), they are both very much alert and active, though they are slowing down. I’m very proud of them for not ending up in a nursing home, they both still live together and by themselves. I can only hope I’m in that good of shape when I get to be their age.
Dad is the oldest with one younger brother and two younger sisters. Grandpa worked in construction for years and years and as a result, he’s very good with his hands. In fact, considering we live in tornado country, he built a basement under their three bedrooms, two and half bath house by planting dynamite and blasting through the rock. I wouldn’t recommend anyone else doing that but considering Grandpa did that for a living and knew what he was doing, he managed to dig a pretty good-sized basement without blowing up the house. I can’t imagine what it must have been like living on top of dynamite like that, literally!
Grandma has always been a stay-at-home mother. In fact, she never got her driver’s license and if she needs to go anywhere today, either Grandpa or one of her daughters takes her. Grandma is emotionally aloof and Grandpa is a cutup. He’s always teasing people and giving them a hard time while Grandma stands on the outskirts and rolls her eyes. Grandpa CONSTANTLY teases my Grandma and though she scowls and says, “Oooh..stop it!” I think she secretly enjoys being the center of attention.
GGH has a strange, but cute relationship. Grandpa is obviously head over heels in love with Grandma and though I think Grandma loves Grandpa, I don’t think she loves him as much as Grandpa loves her. Though my Grandpa is feisty and full of life, I think if he loses my Grandma his life light will flicker and eventually go out. They are quite the pair.
We went over to GGH a lot for “visits” and holidays. In fact, we all still try and get together over at GGH’s on Christmas Eve, a tradition, every year.
We went over there every Christmas Eve and had a party in the basement that Grandpa built. We received our gifts from GGH and spent the rest of the evening playing with them. It was always a lot of fun and that’s a memory I’ll always cherish. When I graduated from high school, moved out, and eventually got married myself, I still wanted to gather over at GGH for Christmas Eve, it just didn’t feel right NOT going.
I’m not close to my grandparents and I couldn’t tell you why. Grandpa always got on my nerves and I still don’t know why. His teasing got old, I guess. I think I have a lot of my Grandma H. in me. I tend to be a cold fish, emotionally, and I don’t have patience for silly people, though I can’t imagine my life without those very people in it. It’s an emotional tug-o-war.
GGH’s house was pink, though I don’t think it’s really supposed to be pink. I think it was red at one time but has faded over the years. GGH had more money than my Grandma J. and their house had newer furniture and more expensive knick-knacks. Grandma H still has a houseful of “prettys” which consists mainly of figurines and angels, (she collects them).
I’m ashamed to admit this, but I’m still VERY uncomfortable going over there (which now consists of once a year and that’s Christmas Eve). I honestly could not tell you why. I feel like a stranger to my aunts, uncles, and cousins and it’s entirely my fault. I’ve been so self-absorbed over the years that I never took the time to get to know any of them. That makes me sound like such a cold fish, I realize that, but I can’t lie. I don’t know if it’s because I never felt I had anything in common with any of them, or what. But I can’t put a finger on why I’ve been so …distant over the years. I’m not proud of the way I’ve interacted with my family and I know I’ll regret it one day. It’ll be one of those things that I wish I could have changed if asked but know, deep in my heart, that I would probably act the exact same way if given that chance.
I’m not proud of my emotional coldness, there’s no excuse for it. All I know is that there is something, some mental block, that I can not get around and I hope I didn’t pass on to my own children. I’m not proud of being a recluse, though I suppose it has advantages. Being distant from my family is not one of them.
Tough love is an expression used when someone treats another person harshly or sternly with the intent to help them in the long run.
I think it’s safe to say that I’m a strict, controlling and sometimes mean mother.
I also think it’s safe to say that I hate having to be this way, that I often isolate myself away from my family and cry my heart out about the tough choices I have to make, but that I think it’s necessary to implement a little tough love in order to raise responsible, self-sufficient and world-savvy children.
I take my mothering job very seriously. I have to. Who else is going to teach him how to survive out in this cold, hard world if I don’t do it?
(And when I say I, I mean both me and Kevin. He’s definitely not afraid to jump in and either back me up or implement a little of his own tough love).
When it comes to sensitive subjects or issues, I’m the sort of person who would rather just rip the bandage off and endure the two minutes of pain afterward than to stretch it out and endure periods of dull, mind-numbering pain over a two month period.
Again. I don’t LIKE being this way, but I honestly believe, in my heart, a little dose of reality goes a LOOONG way.
So, when I see parents coddle their children, I cringe. Children are little people. They’re made of flesh and blood. They can be molded. They are pliable.
They are not made of glass. They will not break or shatter if you hurt their little, wittle feelings.
Grr.
I don’t mean to be heartless, but come on people. Your kids? Need a healthy does of reality now and again. They NEED to know where their boundaries are. They NEED to know what you expect from them. They NEED to know that just because they want something, doesn’t necessarily mean they will get it.
They NEED to know the power of NO once in a while. (They also NEED to know the power of yes once in a while, too. But that’s probably a whole other post).
They also NEED to know you’re their parent and not their friend. I hate to break this to you, but you can not be both. It’s impossible. At least, not until they have reached adulthood and have children of their own – THEN, and only then, is it possible to evolve your relationship into something other than an authority figure, but even then, it’s a thinly veiled friendship underlined by authority.
I’m sure that made sense on some level.
*sigh*
Look. I’ve been at this parenting gig for nearly 17 years now and though I will never claim to be an expert, I do know one thing for sure: your kids WILL hate you at one (or several) point in their lives. It’s inevitable.
At least, if you’re doing your parenting job correctly.
How can they not? Unless you’ve been a welcome mat for your child’s every whim, you’ve had to put your foot down on a request, or a wayward behavior or two, during the course of their short lives. And because they are children and are not emotionally mature enough to see the wisdom of your decision, they will have felt angry and resentful toward you.
I like to jokingly say that you haven’t TRULY obtained your full motherhood badge UNTIL your kids have cursed you under their breath.
I have a whole wall full of badges. I’ll show you sometime.
I remember H.A.T.I.N.G. my parents when I was a teen. (Sorry mom and dad. I don’t NOW of course. I wuv you both very much!). And there really wasn’t a reason why I hated them, I just hated the fact that they wouldn’t allow me to do what I wanted to do when I wanted to do it.
*gasp* I KNOW. The audacity of my parents for loving me enough not to let me go wild. Bad parents.
But I was a young, stupid, wise-ass kid who thought I knew it all and there was a time period I was, erhm, less than nice to my parents and treated them like they were idiots. In fact, I’m just shocked that their heads didn’t explode from having to deal with my attitude.
And trust me when I say, I had an attitude the size of our national deficit.
And now, I have two boys who have reached that stage in their lives where they are tentatively spreading their wings and testing the air currents for a few practice solo flights.
And since wing span takes up so much space and our house is just a modest ranch-style home, it gets a wee bit crowded in here when that happens. Prides are pinched, sanity’s are squeezed and authority levels are tested.
Boy howdy, are they tested.
For the most part, my boys are well behaved. They do occasionally test me, but heck, I’d worry about them if they DIDN’T test me now and again. And we’ve had several skirmishes over staying up later than usual, or sneaking food at odd hours (sound familiar, mom?), and we’ve worked through some lies now and again.
But they were all relatively calm battles and we all relatively walked away from them with a few scrapes and bruises (figuratively speaking, of course).
Until about a year ago.
Dude hit 15 and Satan opened up the gates of hell on our house. Bedtime became AN ISSUE! And yes, it warrants all capital letters because it was AN ISSUE in our house.
Going to bed at a decent hour was suddenly deemed for little kids only. Who needed sleep! He was a TEENAGER, he didn’t need no stinkin’ sleep.
Now again, I’m no parenting expert, but I’m pretty sure all of the parenting books and gurus out there will tell you that teenagers? Need A LOT of sleep to function. They are growing at an alarming rate. Their bodies HAVE to have that sleep so they can have a chance to kick puberty in the ass. It’s a biological thing.
But emotionally? Teenagers fight sleep with every fiber of their being. You thought it was bad when they were toddlers? Just wait … oh, just you wait.
I don’t mean to scare you but …. scratch that … there is no way I can sugar coat the teenage battle field. It’s challenging, it’s ugly and it’s inevitable.
Brace yourselves.
Suffice it to say, Dude and I had it out. And it was ugly. And I said some things that I will always regret. But in some twisted way, it was sort of good that it did happen because it taught me a valuable parenting lesson: my end-all authority with this kid had come to a screeching halt. Though I had final say, I had to learn to compromise and to let that tether rope out just a bit more, just enough to give him the illusion (heh) of having more freedom.
And it taught Dude to respect the fact that even though he was earning the right to make his own decisions, he still had to abide by house rules.
Since that incident, we’ve had a few snits now and again, but nothing like that blowout. It was a turning point in our relationship and I can honestly say, we’ve gotten along a lot better since that skirmish. I stuck to my guns, but I learned to bend a little. I learned that it was time to give up that iron-clench hold on him and let him BE an individual.
I’ve always been pretty honest with my boys. We talk about sex, we talk about peer pressure and we talk about their futures – a lot. I guess I’m emotionally prepping them for the day when they will leave the nest. And though it was really hard for me to initially let go of my boys, I’m learning that I’m actually looking forward to them becoming men. It’s fascinating to watch them physically morph into mature beings.
Jazz has grown about two inches these past few months. And his voice has dropped several octaves. He no longer looks, or sounds, like my baby anymore. He’s left the little boy realm and has stepped into the young man arena.
Though I’ve been sad to see him go, I think I’m more excited to see what comes next. And I PRAY that Jazz and I don’t have any explosive growing pains that Dude and I had. (We’re approaching that 15-year mark with Jazz. For some reason, 15 seems to be THE magical number in our household).
But if we do. I can hack it. Bring it on. Not because I welcome the drama but because it’s my job, as his mother, to make sure he stays on a rational and responsible path.
Dishing out tough love is not fun, but I know in my heart it’s necessary in order to help them grow and mature and to prep them for a life that doesn’t include me or my stupid rules.
There’s been a lot of hoopla in recent weeks about which scenario is harder in relation to balancing work and home life:
1. Working outside the home
2. Working at home
3. Being a stay at home parent
Relax. I’m not here to add fuel to the fire or even TELL you which is harder — there’s no right or wrong answer. It all depends on one’s individual circumstances, how many children there are, what the financial situation is, individual personalities and talents, confidence levels … yaddayaddayadda.
And believe it or not, I’m not arrogant enough to make one definitive statement about it; I think that’s rude and presumptuous of people to blanket a subject that is so complex.
However, I can tell you my own experiences and opinions on each scenario because I’ve lived each scenario.
I’ve talked about my experience working outside the home, now I’d like to share what it’s been like for me to stay at home with the boys.
I entered The Motherhood realm November 18, 1992. It came abruptly and quite unexpectedly. Dude wasn’t scheduled to arrive until January 1993.
But arrive he did. And it completely threw me for a loop. I hadn’t had a chance (okay, I PUT off the chance) to think about what I wanted to do with my banking career before he came along so I just sort of picked up where I left off after he was born.
I returned to work. (You can read more about that in my working outside the home post).
Dude was about five months old when things started getting weird for me. My perspective started changing and I wasn’t sure what to do or how to handle it.
I started having these overwhelming feelings of guilt. I just had a baby and yet, I never saw the kid. And when I did, I was tired and emotionally bankrupt — I didn’t have a lot left over after my days were through to properly give to my newborn son.
And to top off the mommy guilt, my grandmother-in-law’s health, (she was watching Dude while I was at work), was starting to wan. And I started feeling more and MORE guilty for pawning him off on her. Not that she didn’t LOVE taking care of him, but she was having enough trouble taking care of herself, she didn’t need my munchkin to add to her burdens.
And like my mother said, I didn’t have a child for someone else to raise. It was time to stop being so selfish and make some lifestyle changes.
So, I quit. I didn’t want to, if you want the truth. I loved my job. I loved the outside interaction and the chance to dress up and act “grown-up.” But my life wasn’t about me anymore, it was about taking care of my baby boy … so, I bit the bullet and stepped out of the corporate world.
Kevin was also at a point in his career where he had to make a pretty big decision. He was working for a public accounting firm at the time and it required A LOT of travel. So much so, in fact, that he decided being away from me and Dude that much just wasn’t worth the money and sacrifice, so, he switched jobs. He moved to private accounting. This meant less money, but regular hours. It was totally worth the sacrifice.
We also moved out of our rental house and bought a house during that time period. So, to say my life did a complete about face would be pretty accurate.
Let me be clear about something, I love kids. I truly do. But I’m not exactly a baby person. I mean … I am a control freak so handling a baby and trying to guess what is wrong with him or to anticipate his needs was CHALLENGING to me. I got very frustrated on a number of occasions and I’m quite embarrassed to tell you, I totally took it out on Kevin. I honestly don’t know how the man put up with me.
To top ALL of this off, since Dude was a preemie and was in the hospital for six weeks before coming home, on a monitor, no less, I had his delicate health issues to deal with, too.
I wouldn’t say it was a nightmare, but I will say that I learned a lot about myself and what sort of grit I was made of surviving that time period. I grew up — FAST.
The first 18 months of Dude’s life, I never really THOUGHT about being a stay-at-home mom. Ya’ll know how it is, you’re too busy to think of anything but your baby. Your entire world is centered around this one human being, taking care of him, entertaining him, teaching him, and when you finally get to the stage that the child can somewhat entertain himself, it’s like you’re exiting a dark cave and stepping back into reality.
It’s a blinding re-awakening and oh wow, how the world has CHANGED since your baby arrived!
I started feeling restless and “trapped” when Dude turned two years old. I became more and more aware of my role in his life and I was consumed with being a mother, it was time to re-evaluate my role as wife, as well.
I think I had just come to terms with it all, was just starting to get a handle on this whole mommy thing, when I became pregnant with Jazz.
I was much smarter the second go-around. I watched my weight (I gained about 60 pounds with Dude!), and I was just more … comfortable, more settled, centered, I guess, with my second child. I knew what to expect; I knew my personal limitations and I had gotten over my inability to ask for help from time-to-time, whether that help came from Kevin or from my family. (You quickly get over yourself when you have kids).
Jazz’s birth was textbook perfect. He arrived two days before he was scheduled to and he was a good size and perfectly healthy. (In fact, he was so good we were allowed to go home the very next day. Actually, we HAD to, our insurance wouldn’t pay for another night and we certainly didn’t have the money to pay for it on our own).
I now had two children to deal with. Again, I went into this … mommy zone. Not exactly a zombie, but not exactly ME, either. Just sort of on autopilot, I guess. I adored my kids, but I lived for them.
This got old, fast. I started craving my own time. I started craving my own interests and I began to lose sight of who I was. Karen wasn’t completely gone, but she was fading, fast.
I had joined a Mother’s group when Dude was a baby because I felt it was important for him to interact with other kids, to get used to sharing, etc. So when Jazz came along, I continued with the same group of women. And they were all great, honestly, but I never really felt like I belonged. They were all so OBSESSED with their children and cooking and their houses that I nearly lost my mind.
What about what was going on in the world?! What do you think about our current administration? Heck, I would have been happy just to discuss the latest movie, anything BUT diaper rash, developmental challenges and where to get the best deals on designer clothes for the kids.
ZZzzZzzzZZ
Don’t get me wrong. I was interested in all of this and I picked up quite a few helpful tips and resources from these women, but seriously, where did WE go? As women? I just felt so fake and … plastic around them. Sure, I wanted to talk about our kids, but when exactly do we shut that part of ourselves down and talk about issues that concerned us, as women?
That trapped, claustrophobic feeling swallowed me whole. I had completely lost sight of who I was. It angered me. It scared me. And I got incredibly frustrated staying home with my two sons all the time and not having anyone to REALLY talk to.
Again, I took it out on Kevin. And our marriage … uh … deteriorated. To say the least. I threatened to get a job. He laughed at me. Which only fueled my determination to DO something with myself. I wanted to BE someone other than Dude and Jazz’s mom or Kevin’s wife. I wanted a label. I didn’t want to be JUST a stay-at-home mom; I wanted a title. Like Kevin. Someone new would ask Kevin what he did and he would reply, “I’m an accountant.”
That same someone would ask me what I did and I would have nothing to say. “I stay home with my kids.” And inevitably get that LOOK. That condescending, patient, tolerant, fake-polite sort of glazed smile.
I’m sure you know the LOOK I’m talking about.
So, I got a night job at Wal-Mart and worked there for the next seven years.
But life started shifting and my priorities changed yet again. I had started back to college during that time period and I was taking two steps forward and one step back — I needed to graduate and get ON with my life.
So, I quit Wal-Mart to concentrate on graduating from college. Which I did, in ’03 with a Bachelor of Science in Professional Writing. I did it for ME. I did it for my CHILDREN. Because they were both in grade school when I graduated and I knew they would remember mom graduating and hopefully want the same thing when they grew up. I was trying to set a good example for them as well as doing something for me.
After graduation, I stumbled onto my current job as web designer. I’ll talk more about my experience of working from home in a later post.
Do I think staying home with the kids is hard? Yes. And no. Ultimately, I think working outside the home is the hardest of the three scenarios: working outside the home, staying home or working at home. I’ve stated the reasons why I think this. And though staying at home is hard, it’s still not quite as hard as leaving the house, in my opinion and in my experience.
At least at home, I had down times. I could do something for me while the kids napped. I had that pocket of time that I could catch up on stuff that needed to be done. I didn’t have that pocket of time when I was working outside the home. In fact, when I was working outside the home, there was NEVER any down time.
But staying home with the kids is no picnic, either. You lose a portion of yourself when you stay home – your life revolves around your kids and I’m not saying it shouldn’t be like that or that it doesn’t get easier when they get older, but sometimes it’s a necessary focus in order to raise caring, considerate and responsible people.
Staying at home with your kids is probably THE most important job you can do. Because the job is not about YOU. It’s not about furthering your career or making more money, it’s about making the world a better place THROUGH your children. Staying home and raising children is probably one of the most RESPONSIBLE jobs you can ever have because your decisions ultimately shape your children’s lives and personalities. (NO pressure!)
Staying home gives your children stability and security. YOU are the center of your children’s universe, their rock they can hold on to while they tentatively touch the world around them. It’s probably one of the most unselfish kinds of jobs you can have. Because again, it’s not about YOU, it’s about caring for another human being. It’s about putting their welfare and their happiness first. It’s about making sacrifices and being okay with those sacrifices.
So yes, staying home is hard, but it’s a different kind of hard because it demands different parts of YOU. And it’s a thankless job, for the most part. And you never REALLY know how you’re doing because there aren’t any performance reviews to gauge your progress. You’re flying blind and doing the best you know how.
But I have to tell you, speaking as a mother of teenagers, when you reach the point in motherhood that I’m at now and you SEE how awesome your kids are and you’re SO PROUD of them because they are decent and loving PEOPLE, being a stay-at-home mom is the most satisfying and rewarding job out there.
You’ve GROWN and RAISED a person?! How can anyone possibly compete with that accomplishment?
Today was a busy day.
I’m sitting here, desperately trying to write this post before A. Kevin gets home (I will fail, I waited too long), B. dinner burns, C. it’s time to go tan, D. it’s time to go walk (HELLO poochy belly) and E. before the clock strikes midnight.
Because there is just SOMETHING about posting a little something something on my blog every day that turns my drive shaft — I must do it!
But back to my day …
Dude and I went driving. Actually, we had actual places to be today as opposed to just driving aimlessly around.
If you haven’t heard, (where have you been and will you come back?), Dude got his braces off last week. He had them on for a whopping three years and he’s been a DIFFERENT kid since they’ve come off.
Seriously. He’s like all pleasant and fun to be around now. I couldn’t be more thrilled. Where did the moody, and grouchy old Dude go and can we make sure he stays wherever he is??
I can not believe the change in Dude. I’m absolutely serious when I tell you, he has totally changed. I don’t know if his straight, pretty teeth have given him confidence or if he’s so relieved to have those stupid things FINALLY off, or if he has just reached a point in his maturity level that he finally feels comfortable with who he is, but whatever the reason, I’m in parenting heaven.
It’s been a very welcome change. He’s a real pleasure to be around.
I took him in to get his teeth cleaned at 10:00 a.m this morning. I’m happy to report, not a cavity in sight. Can I get a hell yeah?! That’s the good news. The bad news is that we don’t have dental insurance on the boys anymore (just on me and Kevin), so we had to pay for this cleaning out of pocket.
And they did x-rays. Which means it was TWICE as much as we were anticipating. *SIGH*
You might be wondering why we don’t have dental insurance on the kids. Well, the only time the boys are ever in the dentist’s office is for cleanings. And considering I only take them in to have their teeth cleaned about once every two years, we’re paying a bunch of money in premiums that we aren’t using. So even paying out of pocket, like we did today, we’re still coming out ahead than if we had been paying insurance premiums all this time.
And that’s the reason I just took Dude in to get his teeth cleaned and not Jazz, too. We have to space this expense out so we’re not overloading our credit card — it’s all about balance, my friends. I’ll take Jazz in next month for his cleaning, right before he has his orthodontist consultation.
Dude and I then went to Jiffy Lube to get the oil in his car changed. While we were waiting, we walked over to McDonald’s and I bought him a Big Mac (nothing for me, thanks. Remember the poochy belly?) While we were there, we talked about the possible reasons why he was feeling so brain dead and groggy lately.
It could have something to do with the fact that he sits at his computer all day long and never gets any exercise to speak of. But what do I know, I’m not a doctor. 😉
The bottom line? We had a really nice conversation. A grown-up conversation and I thoroughly enjoyed myself.
Like I said, parenting heaven.
We then walked back over to Jiffy Lube just as the guys were finishing his car up. They had to put in a quart and a half of transmission fluid, which I thought was weird, but they said he didn’t have a leak, so I was relieved to hear that.
That’s all we need right now, a blown transmission.
At 1:30, we went back to his orthodontist’s office to pick up his retainer. To my surprise, it wasn’t the traditional wire retainer at all, but one of those invisalign thingies. And to put the cherry on my surprise treat, they want us to come BACK again on Wednesday so he can have some sort of wire put on his top teeth. Apparently, his dentist is worried his teeth will shift back and do the overcrowding thing again.
Dude was disappointed, to say the least. He thought he was done, but apparently … no. At least the kid doesn’t have a mouth full of hardware anymore and he can take these suckers out from time to time. He has to wear the invisaligns for two weeks straight, and then he only has to wear them at night. It sounds like the wire thing will be on for a lot longer.
This all sounds like a major pain in the arse, and it is, but it would be so much worse if we invested all of this time and money into making his teeth straight only for them to revert back to the way they were.
Right?
*sigh* It’s always something.
I stumbled across a new concept the other day on a site and I’m really excited to get involved. It’s called Say It Face to Face and the lovely sisters, Susan and Janice from 5 Minutes for Mom started it.
In essence, it’s a video conversation. Someone asks a question and you respond by videotaping your answer.
This is right up my alley! Though I’m not exactly CRAZY about putting myself out there for all to see and make fun of, it is fun to make videos and …. well, here is why I put myself in front of the camera for all the world to gawk at. I made this video in response to Susan’s question, “Do You Hate Being on Camera?”
I can’t wait to make more response videos and to pose my own questions. Come play! It’s kind of scary to do video at first, but I promise, the more you do it, the more you’ll get used to it and it really does create a personal and intimate vibe with your readers.
I’ve been using my children as bait.
No, I’m not proud of this fact. But yes, I think it’s necessary, at least, in this case.
There are certain people in life who require a push now and again. They’re not exactly unmotivated, but they’re not exactly motivated either. They are sort of stuck in limbo between leaving an old life behind and starting a new one.
They’re at the crossroads and instead of making a decision on which road to travel, they just sort of set up camp and watch people pass them by.
Dude is one of those people. And so is one of my nephews. He graduated from high school this past May and he moved down here to live with his dad. The plan was for him to get his license and then get a job, or something along those lines.
The problem is, none of that seems to be happening. He is still under the assumption that I will taxi him and my boys all around town, that he can spend the night every weekend and that I will continue to pay his way to the movies, bowling, etc.
I feel like I need to put my foot down and gently “push” him into becoming an adult. It’s time. It’s past time, in my opinion. I can’t, and I won’t, play babysitter to boys who are old enough to drive and do things on their own. I feel like I’m only hindering the natural progression of things by being their taxi and event coordinator.
And yes. My nephew knows what’s going on. And he has assured us he is planning on taking his driver’s test, but to my knowledge he hasn’t yet. He’s also quite annoyed with me because I won’t take two hours out of my day (he lives 30 minutes away, one way), to pick him up and then take him back home.
And he’s further annoyed with me when he volunteers his dad (who works nights and I’m quite sure isn’t exactly thrilled about taking two hours out of his day, either) to drive him over and I say, “uh, no.”
He’s missing the point. The POINT is for him to grow up and get that license. Once he has that license, he’s MORE THAN WELCOME to come over, of his own accord, and hang out with us for the day (he’s still not spending the night every weekend. We have lives, after all). Then he can drive his dad’s car home in time for his dad to take it to work. He will have gotten his license and the ball will start rolling on him taking charge of his future.
Because if he doesn’t get that license, he won’t have the transportation to get to a job, or to drive to class, or whatever he plans on doing with the rest of his life.
Yes. I feel like the wicked aunt from the West. But I honestly believe I would be hurting him more if I continued to cater to his immature whims than if I put my foot down and, well, nudged him toward maturity.
It’s called tough love and fortunately, unfortunately (?), I’m quite good at dishing out the tough love. Just ask my sons.
Believe it or not, Dude has not been upset with me over this struggle with my nephew. In fact, he’s been quite understanding and I believe it’s because he knows, in his heart, it’s the right thing to do.
We have talked, at length, about why I’m being so stubborn on this issue. And I think it’s taught him a lesson that 1. I expect the same sort of initiative from him when he reaches that point (which will be very, very soon) and 2. that life IS scary when you reach that crossroads but that’s no excuse not to make a decision and travel down one side or the other.
My dad dished out a lot of tough love with me when I graduated from high school and though I was upset with both of my parents at the time, looking back, it was not only the right thing to do with me, but it made me grow up.
And Lord knows, I needed to grow up.
Kevin’s band played at The New Key Largo this past Friday night and wow … they RAWKED the house. It was the best performance I’ve seen from them.
They all just gelled. And Kevin actually loosened up. He’s usually so stiff and awkward when he plays but he was really getting into it that night and I was so proud of him I thought my heart would break free from my rib cage and do it’s own dance on the dance floor.
I saw a side of him … well, that I haven’t really seen in the 21 years I’ve known him. And I’ll be honest, it was sexy as hell.
I saw him in a whole different light when he was up there and it wasn’t just from the colored spotlights, either. He looked … confident, yet vulnerable, sexy, yet modest, dangerous, yet safe.
I really can’t put it into words. All I know was that it felt like someone shot my relationship with a new awareness and I left feeling the way I did back when we first started dating.
It was a bizarre, yet … strangely satisfying feeling. I guess bizarre because I COULD feel like that about a man I’ve known half my life and satisfying because he belonged to me.
Little ole me.
Write From Karen 